


Norman's Guide to the Paranormal

by IForgotThisWasGay



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Casual swearing, Dipper's Guide To The Unexplained, Eventual relationship, F/F, F/M, First AO3 fic, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Internet Friends AU, M/M, Mentions of drugs and alcohol, POV Alternating, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IForgotThisWasGay/pseuds/IForgotThisWasGay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seventeen years of seeing ghosts, you'd think Norman would've had enough of the paranormal.</p><p> </p><p>  <i></i></p><blockquote><p><i> Teen AU where Norman finds a web show called "Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained".</i></p></blockquote><br/><p></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, hi? This is my first AO3 fic, and my first time writing in over two and a half years, so if you spot any errors, please let me know! I typed this completely on my phone, so I'm praying all turns out well.
> 
> Other than that, DOES ANYONE STILL CARE ABOUT PARAPINES?
> 
> BECAUSE I DO.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Check out parapines-hq on Tumblr if you agree!~~
> 
>  
> 
> But, yeah.. *coughs* The beginning feels a little bit rocky to me, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

It’d been a rough couple months for Norman after the events of the Witch’s Curse, after he’d helped Aggie pass; he probably wouldn’t have gotten through it if it weren’t for his friends and family. Immediately following the chaos, the townsfolk were instinctively wary of Norman; an underlying fear of the unknown lurking despite the fact that he’d helped save the town. But Neil, Courtney and Mitch defended him at every turn, and even Alvin, his former childhood bully, stood by him. His parents, while not entirely able to accept the reality of their son’s powers, finally stopped treating him like a broken doll and actually listened to him for once. 

Eventually, things in Blithe Hollow calmed down, and Norman was happy with the change of pace. 

Now, nearly six years later, Norman was practically spending more time dealing with spirits than he did living people – which, admittedly, got pretty aggravating at times, especially since he was starting his final year of high school – but he didn’t complain much. The work was rewarding, in his mind, and he was able to help a lot more souls move on now that his abilities were accepted by the people of Blithe Hollow. Gone were the suspicious, hateful glares, the whispered words that cut like knives. 

Things were finally looking up. 

—— —— ——

**_Tuesday September 18, 2018._ **

Norman groaned as he flopped down face-first onto his bed, dropping his red Jansport backpack onto the floor as he went. He laid there for a minute, sighing softly into his sheets as he felt his muscles relax. _Why did high school have to be so stressful?_

He lifted his head when he heard footsteps, glancing over as Neil entered his room. The ginger-haired boy deposited his own backpack and gym bag by the door, then sat down at the desk. He idly began to spin the chair around, getting steadily dizzier with each rotation. 

“You gonna do that assignment for Finch’s class?” He asked, not bothered at all by the vertigo. 

This was what Norman enjoyed about Neil’s company – he was always so casual about everything. There was never an uncomfortable silence between the two, because for Neil, friendship came easily. Even from the first time they spoke to each other, six years ago, Neil readily accepted his words, no questions asked. You see ghosts? Have to stop a three hundred year old curse? He was totally okay with it. He was a great friend, better than Norman had ever dreamed of having. 

“Yeah,” the medium rolled over onto his back and sat up, scuffing his shoes lightly against the wood floor. “I finished it while you were at practice. What about you?”

Neil stopped spinning, looking up at the ceiling with a look of deep concentration on his face. “I dunno… I’m still confused about how you tell if a compound is ionic or molecular.” He shrugged, grinning. “Maybe I’ll ask Salma to help me.” 

Norman chuckled good-naturedly, decidedly not mentioning that that was something they had covered in ninth grade science class. “Careful, she might get sick of you if you ask her too many questions,” he teased. “You know how busy she is with all her studying.” 

“Bleh, I know better than anyone!” Neil pouted. “It’s only the third week of school – we barely have any homework yet!” 

“Well, she is taking more advanced classes than us.” Norman pointed out with a shrug. “Plus, we’ll have to start applying to universities in a couple of months.” 

“Yeah… But still! I miss her.” 

Norman faked a disgusted look. “Ew, stop right there! I don’t need to hear any mushy details about my two best friends’ relationship.” Neil burst into laughter, and Norman was quick to follow. “No, but seriously, I still can’t believe how well you two go together.” 

Neil smiled, cheeks flushed with happiness. “I know – but, you know what they say, opposites attract!” 

Norman nodded and got up, kicking his backpack into the corner and out of his way. “Mhm, you two sure prove that theory.” He grabbed his laptop off the desk, opening the old piece of technology – a hand-me-down from Courtney – and logging on before settling back onto the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him. “So, with homework covered, onto more important things – wanna watch a movie?” 

The ginger perked up. “Ooh, did you find another good one?” 

In response, Norman pressed play and Neil hurried over to sit beside him as the opening titles began. 

—— —— ——

Later that evening, after Neil had headed home for the night, Norman and his parents sat down for dinner. Evening meals were an especially quiet affair now that Courtney had moved to Boston with a few of her friends, but the three of them managed alright. His mother served them some sort of casserole while his father grumbled about his day, taxes, and practically everything under the sun. His grandmother’s spirit hollered at him from the living room to shut up, but, of course, he didn’t hear her – and that was one message Norman definitely did not want to relay. Eventually, once Norman’s father had said his piece, his mother turned to talk to her son. 

“So, sweetie, how was school today?” She asked with a small smile. She’d asked him this very same question everyday – minus weekends and holidays – since he was four, but that never stopped her from asking again. 

“Fine,” Norman said bluntly. “It’s school, not like it’s ever really different.” 

His father huffed from his seat to Norman’s left. “And how are your grades? University application deadlines will be coming up soon.” 

Norman rolled his eyes, pushing his barely touched dinner around his plate with his fork. “Dad, it’s only the third week of school,” he said slowly, repeating Neil’s words from that afternoon. “We won’t be getting our marks for another two weeks at least, and there are still months left before even _Salma_ would start submitting her applications.” 

His father looked quite put out, but when he opened his mouth to reply, his mother swatted his left arm with a hissed, _“Perry, leave him alone,”_ and the subject was dropped. After a few minutes of silence, Norman pushed back his chair and stood up. 

“I’m not really hungry.. May I be excused?” 

“Yes, you may.” His mother replied, even as his father voiced the opposite. Not wanting to stick around for much longer, Norman thanked her quietly then headed for his room, nodding a silent greeting to his grandmother as he passed by the living room on his way to the stairs. 

Once he was safely inside his room, Norman slumped against the door with a sigh. Even if his parents believed him about seeing ghosts, things were still a little tense – mostly between him and his father. His mother had always tried to be supportive, to put herself between her son and her husband, but her thin walls did nothing to keep out sharp words. He would hear them fighting, sometimes, late at night. It wasn’t as bad or as often as it was when he was younger, but sometimes it was enough for Norman to sneak downstairs and out the front door while they argued just down the hall, none the wiser. 

They fought about more than just him, too, but he was the most frequent topic. Even when his father couldn’t call him a liar, or an attention-seeker, he still found ways to needle him. Sometimes it was about school, like at dinner, but his father _always_ had something to say about his attitude. Now, Norman would readily admit to having a less than stellar outlook when dealing with his parents, but he felt that his actions were justified. 

Call it teenage rebellion or whatever, but, quite frankly, Norman was still a bit pissed at them for not believing him. 

But he also felt guilty, because he knew that when he purposefully angered his father, his mother had to deal with his mess. Even now, he could hear his father’s exasperated tone amongst the clanking of dishes, along with his name. When his mother’s voice answered, it was sharp, and Norman felt his heart give a sickening lurch in his chest. 

Whenever his mother’s voice took on that tone, it meant things were going to get heated. He hated hearing it, hearing the fighting that came after it – it was always so much worse when his mother fought back. She usually tried to diffuse the situation before it got to that point, but sometimes it just got to be too much. Those arguments left a bitter taste in Norman’s mouth, had his heart racing even though the yelling wasn’t directed at him. Often times, if Norman couldn’t physically escape the house, he’d find himself curled up in the space between his bed and the wall, earbuds in and music blasting, struggling to calm his erratic pulse. Sometimes, when things got to be that bad, his grandmother would come into his room and keep him company. It made him feel like he was just a child again, but he couldn’t deny that her presence was comforting. Just her being there helped to soothe the tight knots in his stomach that threatened to make him puke. 

Now, with such an argument brewing downstairs, Norman settled down at his desk, plugging his earbuds into the audio jack of his laptop and putting on a playlist of songs with loud guitar chords and heavy drumbeats. After successfully immersing himself in the music and drowning out his parents, he loaded up an Internet browser and turned his attention to Google. 

He did these searches, sometimes, where he would look up ‘paranormal’ things. The results mostly consisted of cliché stereotypes, or fictional characters, but occasionally he would come across some interesting forums that were buried deep within the search results. It was entertaining, at best, reading random strangers’ opinions of things that were out of the ordinary. He wondered, sometimes, if any of those people would actually believe him if he said he was a medium. 

He doubted it, but it was a stupid idea anyways. 

Tonight was the perfect night for one of these such searches, when Norman’s mind was in desperate need of a distraction that wasn’t mentally tasking. Idly scrolling through page after page of results, without actually looking for anything in particular, was a great way to waste some time when you were practically an insomniac. If nothing else, he’d kill a few hours fucking around on his computer, then maybe he’d go for a walk once his parents headed to their room for the night. 

On the sixth page, though, he found something interesting. 

The link was titled, _“Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained”_ , and the brief description the search engine provided claimed that the website was actually for a web show that “unveiled the mysterious creatures and legends” of a small Oregon town, Gravity Falls. 

Intrigued, Norman clicked on the link, and that was the start of it all. 

—— —— ——

_“So, uh, welcome to Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained, anomaly number eighty-seven: The Thunderbird.”_

_The somewhat shaky camera footage showed a boy with curly brown hair squashed beneath a blue and white cap. The boy cleared his throat as he lowered the sign he had been holding up, looking steadily at the camera._

_“Now, the Thunderbird is a legend of Native American origins. It’s – according to them – a giant bird that can cause storms and create thunderclaps by flapping its wings. Apparently, it can even take on a human form, so we have to be extremely careful – hear that, Mabel?”_

_“Pssh, why was that directed at me? I’m always careful!” A female voice from off-screen replied._

_The boy raised an eyebrow as if he disagreed, but continued nonetheless. “ **Anyways** , just keep an eye out for any giant, colourful birds.” _

_“Aye aye!”_

_The feed went black for a moment, and when it returned the camera was facing a vast forest._

_“Why is it that every possible creature likes to hide in this forest?”_

_“Well, it’s gotta have a nest somewhere, right?”_

_The camera shook as the person holding it trekked through the woodlands, swatting away tree branches with hands that had purple-painted fingernails._

_“Wait– Did you hear that?”_

_Suddenly the camera was turned around to face the boy from earlier, who had stopped walking. “Hear what?”_

_“I thought I heard a branch snap…”_

_“Why would a bird need to walk? C'mon, Dippin’-Dots! Common sense!”_

_“Mab–”_

_The unmistakable crack of a dry branch splitting was heard, loud enough this time for the camera to pick up._

_“See!” The boy hissed._

_Another figure then appeared from between the trees beyond the boy’s shoulder – a beautiful woman with short dark hair and a brightly coloured shawl wrapped around her._

_“What are you two doing out here?”_

_“We’re looking for something!” The girl behind the camera explained jovially, and the boy with her groaned as he turned to face the newcomer._

_“Oh?” The woman stepped closer. “And what is it that you search for?”_

_“Sorry, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business,” the boy cut in before his companion could supply her own answer. “We’ve got to get going.”_

_Just as he turned back around, the woman opened her mouth and let out a near-deafening shriek. The camera fell to the ground, presumably so that the girl could cover her ears._

_A pair of dirty sneakers entered the shot, then the camera was lifted again, turned this time to the girl as she was helped to her feet._

_“Run, Mabel!”_

_The footage from that point was heavily blurred, the surroundings unrecognizable as the camera was sped past. The mic picked up the duo’s fast breaths and pounding footfalls as they ran – from what remained unseen._

_Further away, the sound of howling winds and thunder were growing closer._

_“What now, Dipper!?”_

_“I’m thinking, just– hang on– just hold this stupid camera!”_

_Once the camera was back within the girl’s grasp, she managed to keep her hands steady enough to see her partner flipping frantically through a notebook._

_“What’s it say??”_

_“I’m looking! Give me a minu– Found it!” The boy stumbled around a tree, barely looking up from the page. “According to this, the Thunderbird’s greatest enemy was a killer whale – no matter how many times it caught the whale, the whale always escaped. Eventually, it swam so far and so deep out into the ocean that the Thunderbird gave up the hunt.”_

_“Where the hell are we going to find a **whale**!? We’re in **Oregon**!” _

_“No, Mabel, we don’t need a– Look out!” His hand shot out, pushing the girl out of the way as sharp talons slashed between them. “Just– head for the lake!”_

_The next time the camera feed came into focus, the boy was climbing out of a golf cart then tearing down an old wooden dock that lead to a lake, the camera and the girl holding it not far behind. The Thunderbird’s angry shrieks were close, closer than before._

_“Mabel! Toss me the camera!”_

_A blur, then the camera was suddenly much closer to the lake._

_“Okay, jump in, and swim out into the middle! Stay as low as you can,” the boy called over his shoulder. Now that he was holding the camera, the mic was able to pick up him muttering, “Good thing I bought the waterproof camera,” just before he leapt off the dock and crashed into the lake._

_When the lense rose above the water again, it was to triumphant laughter and celebratory cheers. Whoever was holding the camera at this point angled it upwards, catching sight of a large bird with bright feathers flying away._

_“We did it!” The camera turned to face the girl – it must be the boy filming still – who was grinning, eyes bright with adrenaline and hair weighed down with water. “Aw yeah, Mystery Twins!”_

_The boy laughed from behind the camera, and slapped her outstretched hand in a high five._

_“Mystery Twins,” he agreed._

—— —— —— 

_“Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained, anomaly number one hundred and thirty-one: Imps.”_

_The customary sign was lowered._

_“Yeah, apparently those are real too? I don’t even know. All I know is that Jeff says some imps are bothering the dwarfs, and he wants me to deal with it.” The boy scoffed, taking off his blue and white cap momentarily to run a hand through his hair._

_“Honestly, this could all be a ploy to try and kidnap my sister and force her to marry him – again,” he admitted, making a displeased face. “Which is why Mabel’s back at the Shack. But, whatever, I’ll look into it.”_

_Skip forward a few hours to when the sun was starting to set, and the boy stood before the camera again._

_“Nope. Nope, I’m done. Imps are bullshit, I’m calling it. Nice try, Jeff.”_

_He angrily switched off the camera._

—— —— —— 

_The camera faced the girl this time, who giggled madly with a pig tucked under her chin._

_“Alright, hi guys,” she whispered. “Waddles and I are here to show you to the greatest anomaly of all time – Dipper himself!”_

_She turned the camera around, then peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of her brother who was sitting at his desk, idly chewing on a pen._

_“And here we see a wild Dipper in its natural habitat,” came the girl’s hushed narration. “Hobbies include: reading until his eyes are bloodshot, chewing on pens or pencils, eating like a pig – no offense, Waddles! At least you’re cute about it!  – and being generally paranoid.”_

_On screen, the boy spit out the pen and hurriedly began to write something down._

_“Now, you may be wondering, ‘how is this poor unsightly creature an anomaly, oh-wise-Mabel?’ – well, I’ll tell you!”_

_The camera swung around briefly to capture the girl’s flabbergasted expression before returning to her brother._

_“This guy runs on only four hours of sleep!”_

_She must have spoken too loudly, though, because the boy suddenly spoke up._

_“Mabel..?”_

_“Yes, Dippin’-Dots?”_

_“What the hell are you doing?”_

_There was a creak from a nearby floorboard, then suddenly the camera was wrenched out of her hands and turned on her instead. She looked slightly sheepish, but was still smiling brightly._

_“Oh, nothing,” the girl dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I was just messing around with your camera.”_

_“Mhm, right. But why were you filming me?”_

_“Uhhhh…”_

_“Alright, whatever you did, I’m deleting it.”_

_The girl scrambled to her feet with a loud gasp, reaching for the camera. “What? No! Dipper!!” She whined. “It’s a behind the scenes look for your fans!”_

_“Pfft, what fans? I still don’t know why you wanted me to make this thing in the first place.”_

_“Just you wait, little bro, you’ll be famous in no time – but you gotta leave this footage! Upload it tonight!”_

_“Mabel–” the boy groaned, but was interrupted._

_“Nuh uh! Don’t want to hear it! I’ll be watching over your shoulder the whole time, mister – no funny business!”_

_“Urgh… fine.”_

_“You know you love me.”_

—— —— —— 

**_Friday September 21, 2018._**

Norman had become rapidly enthralled with the web show, and had spent the better part of his free time for the past two nights watching more and more videos. He’d been skeptical about the authenticity of the videos, at first, but chose to give them the benefit of the doubt. 

After all, if they really were editing crazy mythological creatures into their videos, surely they’d have better cameras and footage, right? 

Point is, Norman was definitely a fan of the show. In fact, he’d talked to Neil about it so much in the past few days that his ginger friend had actually joked that it sounded like Norman had a crush on the host. 

Which was ridiculous, because Norman didn’t have crushes – never had. 

Maybe it was that accusation, however lighthearted, that made Norman hesitate every night before closing the webpage. He wanted to talk to Dipper, to tell him about the things that he’d seen. He felt like they could relate, but there was always the chance that this was all a fraud. 

Then again, he didn’t have to mention anything about being a medium, did he?

So, that night, Norman didn’t exit the browser after he finished watching more videos, and instead scrolled down to the bottom of the webpage.

The email address left there seemed to mock him.

 _What the hell is wrong with me? It’s not like he’ll know I’m a medium – I’m just going to tell him about the Witch’s Curse_ , Norman berated himself mentally. _So what if he doesn’t believe me?_

In a sudden bout of courage, Norman clicked on the link and started typing.

>   
>  _From: littleghost1701@gmail.com_
> 
> _To: dipperunexplained@outlook.com_
> 
> _Subject: (No Subject)_
> 
> _Sent: 09/21/2018, 11:47 PM_
> 
> _Hey, my name’s Norman, and I figured I’d send in this email to let you know that your web show is pretty cool. I had no idea all those things existed, but hey, this world is a pretty crazy place, right?_
> 
> _Anyways, I was wondering if you’d ever heard of The Witch’s Curse? It used to be just a stupid myth around Blithe Hollow, Massachusetts, but it actually happened – about six years ago, in fact. I know this probably sounds crazy, but it seems like you’re pretty used to craziness, so, yeah. If you look it up, the news articles will write it off as a freak tornado, but don’t be fooled. All of us here know what really happened._
> 
> _I don’t know why I’m telling you this, really. Thought you might find it interesting? Probably. Maybe._
> 
> _Look into it, if you want – I could always tell you more, if you’re actually interested. Just email me back if so._
> 
> _So, uh, I’ll hear from you soon?_

Norman cringed as he re-read what he wrote. He was pretty terrible at talking to new people, and apparently that showed even through emails. Wonderful.

This was probably the best he was going to get, unfortunately.

With a sigh, Norman moved his cursor to hover over the send button, but paused before clicking it. He laughed suddenly as an idea came to him, and typed something else into the subject bar.

> _Subject: Norman’s Guide to the Paranormal_

He really shouldn’t have found it that funny.

Sending the email off before he lost his nerve, Norman then logged off and closed his laptop for the night. He spent the next few hours lying awake in bed, wondering if he’d just made a huge mistake.

He’d just have to see if Dipper responded or not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said Ford wasn't going to be in this fic? I lied.

_**Saturday September 22, 2018** _

When Dipper opened his eyes that morning, it was to the lazy light of dawn creeping through the triangular shaped window of the attic, and the sounds of Grunkle Stan throwing pots around in the kitchen. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes before glancing over at his alarm clock. The device told him, cheerfully in bright red numbers, that it was four minutes until seven o'clock. 

Right on schedule, Grunkle Stan hollered for him to _"get his ass downstairs",_ and Dipper let out a short laugh as he wrested himself free of his tangled up covers. Once that battle was won, he sped down the staircase, nearly missing the last six steps when his socked feet lost traction halfway down. Managing to catch his balance just in time, he stepped into the kitchen and greeted his great-uncle.

"Yeah, yeah," Stan grunted, shoving two pieces of bread into the toaster rather aggressively. "Good morning and all that."

Dipper scooted past the older man to get to the fridge, reaching inside and pulling out a jug of milk. "What's got you so riled up?" He joked, nudging the appliance door shut with his hip as he turned to the coffee pot. "Rough night?"

Stan rolled his eyes, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "You could say that. That idiot brother of mine's been up since three in the morning -- if he even went to sleep at all. I could hear him tinkering around with his alien junk or whatever it is he does down there."

Dipper shrugged. "Grunkle Ford's been working on something new recently... I think he mentioned something about the gnomes?"

"I don't care if it's the goddamn Queen of England! I'm just an old man -- I need sleep!"

"Yeah, well--"

Both of them jumped when the toaster gave a loud chime, producing Stan's toast. He grabbed his breakfast, letting out a muffled curse at the heat before throwing them onto a nearby plate.

"You know that I don't like either of you messing around with this stuff," Stan admitted after a moment, taking a bite of his toast. "It's dangerous. Your sister shouldn't have to say goodbye to you when you're only 19."

The younger man sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot that had already been brewed. "I know, but this is something both Ford and I are committed to," he explained carefully. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, and Dipper was certain it wouldn't be the last. "You know that things in Gravity Falls are never quite what they seem. We just want to unravel these mysteries once and for all."

Throughout his little speech Stan had rather viciously consumed his toast, and by the time Dipper was done, threw his plate into the sink.

"You say that now, but just wait 'til you're buried six feet under." Stan picked a few crumbs from his stubble, brushing off his white wife-beater before speaking up again. "Make sure you get ready soon. We open in two hours."

Dipper nodded, staring vacantly into his mug as he carefully added milk to his coffee. 

On his way out of the kitchen, Stan paused with a sigh. "You know I'm just trying to look out for you, right, kid? Mabel isn't the only one who'd miss you if you were gone."

Dipper looked up at that, meeting his great-uncle's eyes. "...Yeah, I know." He gave a small smile. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

He scoffed, casually brushing off the affection. "Yeah, sure, no problem. Just go get dressed."

But Dipper didn't miss his own minute smile as he left the room.

Coffee cup in one hand and an apple he'd snagged in the other, Dipper returned to his own room to prepare for the day. 

Since he'd decided to stay in Gravity Falls, he and his great-uncles had worked out a schedule between the three of them. On the weekends he'd work in the Mystery Shack, and during the week -- as it was his primary reason for being there -- Dipper would work with Ford as his apprentice. Together they worked hard, often until very late at night, investigating the mysterious happenings of Gravity Falls. Sure, it was dangerous, like Stan was worried about, but he wasn't going to stop. He tried to be careful, obviously, but was it really his fault if he got a little scratched up on occasion? 

Beyond the danger -- _or perhaps the danger was a part of it? He should look into that_ \-- the work itself was exhilarating. Making a new discovery, or solving a long-evasive mystery, those were the things he lived for. There was nothing quite like the accomplished feeling that came with it.

He'd been doing amateur work ever since his first summer in Gravity Falls, right around his thirteenth birthday. Every summer since then he and Mabel had returned to visit their great-uncles, and even though Dipper had turned down Ford's first proposal for an apprenticeship after seeing how much it meant to Mabel, he did still help out with the mystery solving.

He promised Mabel that he'd stay with her through high school. Even though she told him he could go work with Ford if he really wanted to, he knew that it would be best for the both of them if he stayed, at least for a few more years. Eventually, too, as the twins grew older they also grew apart. They were still close, of course, they just didn't necessarily feel the need to be attached at the hip anymore

It was normal, and allowed the twins to grow into their own person. So once the two had finished high school in California, just before they headed up to Gravity Falls for summer vacation again, Mabel brought up the subject of Ford.

_"I think you should do it."_

_"Do what?”_

_“The apprenticeship. With Ford."_

_"Wha-- Mabel, what're you talking about? I told you, it's--"_

_"'It's fine’? But you still want to be his apprentice, right?”_

And he had. So, even though he protested that he didn't mind staying in California, Mabel had convinced him.

_"Besides, we'd have gone to different universities anyways. No way I'm going to some nerd school! And you'll Skype me every day, right, Bro-Bro?”_

When summer ended that year, after celebrating their eighteenth birthday, Grunkle Stan had taken them to a tattoo parlor. Surprisingly, the trip had been Mabel's idea, and they left the shop with their first tattoos. Dipper had gotten a small crescent moon on the side of his left palm, and Mabel a small sun on the side of her right palm. If they were to interlock their fingers together, the two tattoos would appear side by side.

The next day, Mabel headed back to California alone, promising to send up the rest of Dipper's things once she got back.

That had been just over a year ago, and true to his word, the twins talked almost every day. Thankfully, there was no time difference to worry about, so it was fairly easy to arrange a time for their call. Mabel told him all about her fashion projects she was working on at the local college in Piedmont, and Dipper informed her of the day's discoveries. He did return to California to celebrate the Christmas season with his family, but other than that was content with his life in Gravity Falls.

Even if it meant putting up with the occasional idiot tourist.

_Honestly, how did the Shack even get customers this time of the year?_

Shaking his head, Dipper inspected his closet for clothes that weren't dirty and/or torn apart. While it may have been fine to wear ratty old clothes while exploring with Ford, Stan always made him wear something 'presentable' while working shifts at the Shack.

Though, really, he supposed he should have been grateful he didn't have to wear a full suit again. That would be terrible.

After a bit of rummaging around, Dipper finally located a pair of faded blue jeans, a gray T-shirt and a button-down blue and orange plaid shirt. He took the clothes, along with a clean set of boxers and socks, down the hall to the bathroom. He showered quickly, knowing that he still had other things to do, and that if he even a minute late Stan would throw a fit. Once he was clean and dressed, he inspected himself in the mirror, wiping away the steam that had accumulated.

He'd acquired a bit of scruff towards the end of his teenage years, something that he'd been absolutely ecstatic about. Mabel had teased him in the beginning, saying that he was trying to look like the Multi-Bear, but eventually admitting that the facial hair suited him. More often than not he chose to forego shaving, being too lazy most mornings but also preferring the somewhat rugged look. Aside from that, he'd also grown his hair out, the damp curls grazing the back of his neck. Now it was long enough that, should he choose to, he could tie it back in a small ponytail.

Satisfied with his overall appearance, and confident such a look would meet Stan’s approval, Dipper left the bathroom and headed back down the hall to his room. Once there, he sat down in front of his laptop and took another sip from the coffee mug he'd left sitting on the desk earlier. He logged in, pulling up an Internet tab and checking in with some of the blogs he kept up with.

All in all, he spent a little over an hour like that, mindlessly scrolling through the content he'd missed during the week. When Stan called for him at quarter to nine, Dipper sighed and shut down his laptop, picking up his phone on the way out and sending off a quick text to Mabel.

**[[Sent; 8:47AM]]**  
**_Off to work. Good luck at your design group today. <3_ **

\------ ------ ------

Two and a half hours later saw Dipper counting down the minutes until his lunch break.

_C'mon, you can do it. Only…_ A sigh. _Forty minutes left._

In all this time, the Shack had only had one customer. Tyler had stopped by about twenty minutes after opening, and had debated between two T-shirts for the better part of an hour. Stan had stepped out to go see Lazy Susan as soon as he'd unlocked the door -- he didn't have any tours until one o'clock, anyways -- and hadn't come back from the diner yet.

Dipper found ways to pass the time by fooling around with some of the knockoff items around the Shack, or by sending Mabel a series of texts describing the horror he was currently living through.

**[[Sent; 9:35AM]]  
_C'MON MAN, how long does it take to decide whether you like white or green better!_**

**[[Sent; 10:07AM]]  
_Hypothetically, do you think Stan would be mad if I used the "Authentic Indian Throwing Knives" to stab my eyes out?_**

**[[Sent; 10:09AM]]  
_Purely hypothetical, of course. If anything, I'd use the “Terror-dactyl Talons"._**

**[[Sent; 11:16AM]]  
_I may not make it to lunch. So close, too._**

The last one was from only a few minutes ago, and Dipper was surprised when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

**[[Received; 11:22AM]]  
_oh hush you baby_**

**[[Received; 11:23AM]]  
_tell the grunkles I say hi! <33_**

Dipper let out a laugh at that, smiling fondly at his phone. He could always count on Mabel to cheer him up, even if she was making fun of him. He scrambled to put his phone back in his pocket, however, when Stan strode in through the door.

"Mabel says hi," he gave his Grunkle an innocent smile.

\------ ------ ------

One o'clock finally rolled around, and things began to pick up -- if only slightly.

Stan had a tour booked, and though the group that showed up wasn't the largest crowd they'd ever had, it was substantially larger than the single customer that day had seen prior. Surprisingly, the group consisted of younger people -- university students, probably -- rather than the senior citizens that usually showed up in the fall.

In particular one of the group members caught his eye -- a boy, taller than he was, with messy blonde hair and dark eyes. He watched the other boy and his friends over the top of his magazine as they entered the back area. Once they were gone, he immediately threw the keepsake Wendy had left behind down onto the counter, snatching up his phone and calling Mabel.

As soon as she picked up, Mabel gasped dramatically. "Are you calling me from _work_ , Dipper? What would dear old Stan have to say about that, hmm?”

Dipper leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up. " _Dear old Stan_ is doing a tour right now."

"Well then, what he doesn't know won't hurt him!” He could practically see her grinning. "Any good eye candy today?”

“Funny you should mention that..."

"Oh my god!! Details!!”

Dipper laughed. "Alright, alright! Blonde hair, dark eyes -- brown, maybe? --, about 5'9", if I had to guess--"

Mabel sighed dreamily on the other end of the line. "He sounds gorgeous-- and just your type, Dipper!”

“Funny, you seem to know my type better than me. But anyways, I’m willing to bet that we're not compatible."

"But he's hot!!”

"But does he believe in the great mysteries of the universe?”

“Geez, Dip, high standards much?” Mabel laughed good-naturedly. "I kid, of course! Hey, I've got to get going -- I'm heading to the mall with Kait -- but make sure you keep your eyes open for your dream match, will ya'?"

“Yeah, yeah, sure," he sighed. "I miss you, Mabel."

"I miss you too, little bro."

\------ ------ ------

Four hours later, Dipper trudged upstairs to his room. He felt more exhausted than he ever did during the week -- which probably had to do with a lack of adrenaline coursing through his veins, but whatever -- and wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Maybe he'd sleep now, then head downstairs during the night to check on Grunkle Ford, possibly help out a little.

Yawning, Dipper sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop once again. Even if he wanted to sleep, he couldn't -- not yet, anyways. He still had to check his email first.

That was another condition Mabel had forced upon him before she left. Towards the end of the summer, she'd become rather secretive, spending hours holed up with her laptop. Eventually, two days before she was set to leave for California, she'd revealed the fruits of her labour.

It was a website -- more of a web _show_ , really -- that was already the host of quite a few videos of their prior adventures. Dipper had wanted to take it down immediately, of course, but Mabel had convinced him otherwise.

_"But Dipperrrr! This way, I can still see what sorts of adventuring you get up to, and check whether or not you're alive!”_

_“Mabel, I'll be fine--"_

_"Don't deprive my inner mother hen, Dipper!!”_

So the website had stayed. " _Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained_ ", it seemed, was now official. He updated videos to the site biweekly, just to reassure Mabel that he was, in fact, still alive. He'd also promised to check the site's "official email" daily, to _better connect with the fans_ , as Mabel had put it.

Usually he didn't get much mail anyways -- the site didn't have many hits, after all -- but he never risked not checking. The last time he'd done that, Mabel had surprised him by emailing him, and went into hysterics that he hadn't responded.

So, no, he wasn't going to risk that happening again.

He logged into the email account, waiting for the inbox to load so he could finally take his nap. But to his surprise, there actually was an email waiting for him -- and it wasn't even from Mabel.

He clicked on the email -- whose subject line was a pun of his own web show's name, no less -- eyes scanning over the contents relatively quickly. When he was finished, he sat back in his chair, looking contemplatively up at the ceiling.

_The Witch's Curse, huh?_

After another moment he unplugged his laptop and took it over to his bed, getting comfortable with his laptop resting against his legs. He'd be busy for the next couple hours, for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**In regards to tattoos, a sun and a moon pictured together represent a man and a woman who are joined spiritually._
> 
> Sorry this took so long!! I tried to re-work my plans so that I could have Ford, because S2E17 was just too perfect. <3 Plus, I'm writing another Parapines fic right now, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Also, OH MY GOD GUYS, YOU ALL ARE FABULOUS!!! I didn't expect such a positive response to this fic, and your comments, etc., have really helped to keep me going. <33
> 
> Hope I didn't lose too many of you during the break.

**Author's Note:**

> *NOTE: The notebook Dipper has with him is not The Journal!! It is his own notebook, that does include notes from #3, but also more things he has discovered himself. In this AU, the truth about Stanley never came to light, mostly because I couldn't be bothered to think ahead of where Gravity Falls is at right now. So, yeah, no Grunkle Ford. Sorry. 
> 
> Other than that, any thoughts? I apologize for my awkward writing -- hopefully I'll get more used to writing as the fic progresses.
> 
> And on that note, I have no idea when the next update will be. I've already started chapter two (it will be Dipper's POV!), but school is a bitch, so..
> 
> Dipper's chapter will explain a lot of things, so if your iffy about this AU just stay tuned! I promise I have a logical reason for Dipper's web show and his presence in Gravity Falls. Just go with it for now.
> 
> Also, I'll probably upload this on Tumblr as well. My URL is be-a-thief-in-the-night. Feel free to shoot me an ask over there if you have any questions, or leave them in the comments. Anons are welcome!
> 
> Until next time!


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